


Her Worst Fear

by jrugg



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, Postpartum Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1430824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jrugg/pseuds/jrugg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had been terrified of developing postpartum depression again. She was worried that if it happened to her again it would be even worse the second time around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Worst Fear

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from an Imagine Your OTP prompt. While I have no personal experience with this topic, I hope I did an okay job with it. As always, thanks for reading!
> 
> And also, the obligatory disclaimer that I write this purely for enjoyment and mean no offense to either David Tennant or Catherine Tate.

It had been the happiest day of his life when his daughter was born. His first child, his and Catherine’s little girl. She had been born three weeks early and was so tiny; David had been afraid of breaking her during the first few days. He quickly got used to the feel of the tiny body in his arms, learning to change her, feed her, and swaddle her like a professional.

         Even now, eight weeks later, he could still see the smile and joy on Catherine’s face when she had held their daughter in the hospital. Her voice radiated with love when she told the nurses the baby’s name, Evelyn. He still held on to those precious moments because within days of returning home from the hospital, Catherine’s demeanor changed drastically.

         She had been terrified of developing postpartum depression again, she had told him on more than one occasion throughout her pregnancy. She divulged all her secrets of her nearly two-year bout of depression after Erin was born and was worried that if it happened to her again it would be even worse the second time around. David had assured her that everything would be fine but he had been so wrong.

         Evelyn was not even a week old when Catherine was stricken with her first attack of uncontrollable crying. David knew his wife was sleep-deprived, he was too, but even so he was getting accustomed to the feedings every few hours and being awoken to the sound of Evelyn’s shrill cries. So he was more than a little surprised when the three am feeding came around and Catherine buried her face in her pillow and started sobbing.

         “Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed her, rubbing her back over the duvet. “I got her. Go back to sleep.”

         David fed his daughter and changed her nappy; he kissed her downy head before putting her down to sleep. He stayed in the nursery for a little while just watching her sleep; even through his exhaustion he couldn’t get enough of her.

         He expected Catherine to be asleep when he returned to their bedroom but instead her found her with her pillow clutched tightly to her chest, her body shaking with almost silent sobs.

         He was immediately back in the bed, his arms wrapping around her. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned. “Why are you crying?”

         “I’m so…tired,” she gasped out between her tears.

         “Then sleep.” David wasn’t sure what else to say but when Catherine’s crying intensified, he knew he had said the wrong thing.

         “I can’t!” she wailed. “Even if I manage to fall asleep she’ll be up again in a little while and I’ll be even more exhausted than I am now.”

         David wrapped his arms tighter around her and kissed the top of her head. He assured her that he would get up for the next feeding and for however long it took until she felt rested again. He held onto his wife until her tears subsided and she fell asleep and, not long after that, slipped out of bed to tend to his daughter.

***  
         David was spiraling into a depth of misery. He didn’t want to admit it out loud but he knew Catherine wasn’t just moody, she was once again suffering from postpartum depression and he didn’t know how to help her. He could hear her crying when she spent an inordinate amount of time in the shower, she lashed out at him at the smallest things, he hadn’t heard her lovely throaty laugh in weeks, and on the rare occasion when she did smile it didn’t reach her eyes.

         He didn’t worry about leaving her alone with the baby, although he had been scared out of his mind the day he came home from the grocery store and heard Evelyn screaming and crying louder than she ever had before. He rushed to the nursery to find his daughter in her crib, her face scrunched up red and angry, and Catherine sitting in the corner, her knees pulled to her chest as she struggled for breath.

         David had seen Catherine suffer a panic attack a time or two in the past but that didn’t mean it scared him any less. He ran to her side and began to rub her back, murmuring, “It’s okay Catherine, it’s okay. I’m here. Just breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Focus on breathing sweetheart.”

         In between her gasps for air, she managed to get out one word. “Evelyn,” she wheezed, her eyes darting to the crib.

         “I’ll get her,” David said. “She’s probably scared too. You just keep focus on breathing, okay?”

         Catherine nodded weakly while David went to pick up the wailing baby. A fresh dry nappy and a little bit of rocking in his arms was all Evelyn needed to calm down. Catherine, meanwhile, was still huddled in the corner but her breathing was starting to become more even and less erratic. Cradling his daughter in one arm, David rubbed Catherine’s back until the remains of the attack had passed. She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and said meekly, “David, I need help.”

***  
         The first time Catherine had suffered from depression she had steadfastly refused medication, not wanting to put any drugs in her body. She still wasn’t thrilled with the idea but she couldn’t wait around for something to happen that would pull her out of the depression; she needed to help herself. She needed to get better for herself, for David and for her daughters, both Evelyn and Erin.

         The pills helped to curb her panic attacks and her outbursts of tears but she still felt sad and rundown most of the time. She tried to be more active in taking care of Evelyn but David still did more than his fair share, especially at night. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come home from work and immediately go to sleep with nary a conversation between him and Catherine.

         One night, about three weeks after Catherine began her medication, David awoke from a deep sleep and glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It was six am and he sat up, his heart pounding nervously. Evelyn had slept through the night a few times but as a new dad he still worried when her cries didn’t wake him. He quickly realized that Catherine wasn’t in bed next to him and that eased his worry somewhat.

         He slipped out of bed and threw on a white t-shirt over his boxer-clad form and made his way to the nursery. The door was slightly ajar, he pushed it open the rest of the way and entered the purple-walled room. He saw Catherine in the rocking chair, their daughter in her arms, her right foot pushing off the ground to make the chair move. She was also singing a lullaby, so quietly that David could hardly hear it from his place in the doorway. From the word or two he was able to catch, he recognized the song as “You Are My Sunshine.”

         When she finished the last note, Catherine looked up and smiled at David, her eyes shining with joy. It was so good to see her with a genuine smile and David felt his own grin spread across his face.

         “She likes your voice,” he said.

         “I suppose she does, yeah.”

         David approached them placing a soft kiss on the top of his daughter’s head and then kissing Catherine softly on the lips.

         “You alright, love?” he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

         Her reply was short and truthful but it was a start and all either of them could ask for.

         “I will be.”


End file.
